


To Be A Thief

by chronoturner



Category: Original Work
Genre: Nonbinary Character, Original Character Death(s), Repressed Memories, Sexual Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronoturner/pseuds/chronoturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The famed Jewel of Lao-Tze, unearthed in 300 years ago by a since forgotten archeologist in the land of Ze-Wunaom, is currently in the possession of Lady Ferguoci, who is now hosting her annual masquerade to celebrate the oncoming rain season.</p><p>Merchant Prince Vescutto, less formally known as CT, and his bodyguard, Luc, intend to steal it, on the very night of the ball. Faced with  political intrigue, assassinations left and right, and the ever-present ears of the Frivacine nobles, they face an almost impossible challenge. But will they make it, nonetheless?</p><p>Luc is the OC of sparxflame, a friend of mine.</p><p>Update 23/01/2018: will be finished at some unspecified point in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparxwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/gifts).



The invitation was specifically for Merchant Prince Vescutto, and his armed servant, Luc, for the holiday season masquerade, hosted by the Lady Annabella Ferguoci, the wife of Lord Ferguoci, a nearby land-owner surrounding the city of Artisi. Prince Vescutto, less formally known as CT, admired the view of the sea which they had in their carriage as it carried them towards the mansion.

CT was smiling to himself, curling his gloved fingers through his thick golden locks, swept to one side. His face was masked with the image of a lioness, so as his piercing green eyes stood out even more. His face was shrewd and his intelligence, a hooked nose and feminine chin made his unusual appearance stand out even more.

“So.” Luc spoke up, folding their arms, “Who is Lady Fergooci?” CT would forgive their butchering of the Frivacine language, as they were not a native speaker.

“Lady Ferguoci is the wife of a local minor Lord. Every year they hosts a grand masquerade in preparation for the _girano prisca_ , the rainy season. All the local nobility flock for the occasion.” CT explained, stopping curling his locks to examine his fingers, twiddling them nonchalantly. He played with his hands a lot, examining them, despite always being gloved.

“Why are we going?”

CT sighed, tutting his head. “My dear Luc, you don’t question it. If a party is held, you attend said festivity! It is simply rude not to.”

“Uhuh.” Luc said, unimpressed. CT had somehow forced them to wear a piece of decorative armour, silver plate gilded with tyrian purple enamel. A belt with the crest of the Vescutto family, the Lion, had a greatsword hung to the side. Luc was obviously unfamiliar with wearing such armour, however CT had told her they needed to be dressed for the occasion. They had no choice but to go along with it. “Who will be in attendance?”

“My fellow Merchant Princes, Bascullio, Narillio, Ferdiso. The Doga, Vicento Calliersi. Of course, the Lord and Lady Ferguoci. Many other local nobles, richer peoples of the area, some foreign dignitaries. Rumour has it that Emperor Nyico himself might attend the party tonight, however my sources have yet to show truth in this rumour.” CT explained, expecting Luc to know these people. They had indeed met the Doga, as well as Ferdiso, however all the others they had yet to meet.

“And why the masks?” Luc had refused to wear her mask until they arrived, and reluctantly so. They did not like the Frivacine culture, with their political games and their falsehoods. It was a viper’s nest.

“The masks are complementaries, my dear Luc! They have no significant meaning but props, extras for the play, so to speak.” CT did a hand wave to emphasise his point. He moved his hands around a lot when he talked. “Speaking of, quick, put yours on, we are almost there!”

Luc grumbled to herself, however put on her mask, the mask of a fierce silver lion, to contrast CT’s black lioness, apparently.

The carriage drove up to the entrance of a large mansion, made of light beige concrete, symmetrical, with white arches and columns alining the whole building. As the carriage moved along, Luc could spot men and women in masks and jewellery chatting amongst themselves in the gardens, radiant colours upon dark and blank skins, however, primarily dark.

The carriage rode up to the entrance, and the two waited as a servant opened the door. CT walked out, flamboyantly, his chest pushed up and his head held up high, his arms widened, as he stepped down. Luc followed, less excitedly, and exited the carriage without the flair.

CT had already walked up ahead, to kiss the hands of those who Luc presumed to be Lord and Lady Ferguoci. The two were dressed in golds and blues, their thick locks and dark skins apparent, showing them as Native Frivacine. The Artisians, such as CT, had come from the Remnants of the Empire, having proven themselves loyal to the Empire by staying with it until the end, and after that as well.

Lady Ferguoci was small, and Lord Ferguoci was tall. However, both were plump, having fat statures and noticeably full lips. Their hooked noses, much like CT’s, marked at some point they had had Artisian nobility in their bloodline. Lord Ferguoci had a matted beard, while Lady Ferguoci’s hair was in dreads.

“ _Larri_ , Lady Ferguoci! _Larri_ , Lord Ferguoci! It is an honour to be here tonight, on this most pleasant of occasions!” CT smiled, kissing both of the nobles palms, which had been put forward in greeting.

“ _Larri_ , Prince Vescutto! And no, it is an honour to have you here, on this most splendid of occasions.” Lord Ferguoci spoke, in a deep voice. “And that must be your bodyguard! Luc, was it? _Larri!_ ”

“Yes.” Luc said, quite unimpressed with the pair. They reacted by shrugging, and simply turning back towards CT, not very intent on talking with Luc, it seemed. They were beneath them, CT was more important.

“So, Prince Vescutto! How is the state of Artisi? I hope everything is doing splendidly?” Lady Ferguoci butted in, with little protest from Lord Ferguoci.

“Quite well, my Lady, quite well indeed. And you?”

“Oh, the peasants are absolutely dreadful! Always complaining about lack of food or that the _Wariste_ , the masters, are to hard on them!” she complained, without attempting to hide it. “Between you and me, my Prince, I can’t wait for the good old days when they were slaves, before Emperor Nyico.”

For a split second, his face frowned. He looked displeased. However, a second later, CT looked as he had been before, Luc only having barely caught the change in emotion. Honestly, Luc was trying their hardest not to punch Lady Ferguoci in the face right now.

“Anyways, I believe the party calls! I hope you and Lord Ferguoci will have a good night!” CT smiled, eyeing Luc and discreetly nodding his head sideways towards the entrance. He grasped his gloved hands, rubbing them, as he walked, and Luc followed behind him.

“ _Berre nussiz telline qastroses laraniz_ , please may they be stabbed a million times.” CT muttered under his breath as the two entered the lobby.

“You don’t like them, I take it?” Luc asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They are despicable worms, people who thrive off the mistreatment of the common folk. Despicable.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it?”

“Subtlety, Luc. We ruin them with subtlety. Now, follow me, and please, don’t start a fight.”

CT guided them across the the room, into a ballroom. Many people were chatting amongst themselves, and CT greeted every person he passed by, with small chatter. Everybody knew CT somehow, whether they were professionally involved with him or they were in debt. Eventually, CT guided Luc past two guards, into a room with not a single soul.

Inside the guarded room, was a display case. Inside it, was a jewel, large and shining and transparent, pear-shaped and perfectly smooth. CT smiled as he brought Luc to inspect it.

“This.” CT explained, “Is the Jewel of Lao-Tze.”

“So?”

“We are going to steal it.” CT explained, almost as if it was obvious.

Luc slapped him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics, worldbuilding, and Viziers, oh my!
> 
> Luc is the OC of my friend, sparxflame!

CT recoiled back, being slightly taken aback. He rubbed his cheek, and then looked at Luc. “I admit, I must have deserved that.”

“You think?” Luc complained, folding their arms and looking at CT readjusting himself. “You always do this! Tell me things at the last minute, leaving me not at all prepared! I could have brought more knives!” Luc grumbled.

“Yes, yes, it was wrong of me. Now, my dear Luc, do not go and grab that sword of yours, let’s talk this over.” He attempted to put a hand on Luc’s shoulder and guide them to face the jewel again.

“So, what is this jewel so special for?” Luc grumbled, slightly.

“It was unearthed over 300 years ago, in Ze-Wunaom, before the civil war between the Ze and the Wun, and the Aom. The jewel is one of a kind, of perfect quality and quite a lengthy history. A man would sell all he owned simply for this jewel.” CT explained, eyeing it greedily.

“Of course, I am not so stupid, I assure you, my dear Luc. Don’t give me that face!” Luc had raised an eyebrow at this.

“Of course, several people are attending this party for the specific purpose of stealing the jewel. Six nobles, four from Artisi, one from the capital, and one from Yuran Iln Yiv. Normally, I’d simply assassinate all of them, however, I can’t.” CT went on, essentially explaining with Luc only half-listening.

“The easiest to deal with will be Vizier Kosran Ko’ Sissran, Royal Advisor to King Dar’ammad. He intends to steal the jewel, however, we are old friends, so I am sure I can persuade him otherwise. The rest will be trickier to deal with.” CT waved a hand hesitantly.

“They all hate my guts, naturally, and would gladly see me die rather than negotiate with me.”

“Obviously.”

“Quite.”

“Let’s leave now. Mingle with the crowd. It’d be suspicious if we stayed in here for too long.” CT said, guiding Luc out of the room and into the ballroom. The guests were quietly chattering amongst themselves, all with masks. CT guided Luc across the room, talking with some people along the way, asking how they were, what they were doing tonight, however he was ultimately guiding them towards an old man in a chair.

He wore a simply pottery mask with clownish features, however, it was obviously displaying an old man. The holes were white orbs, shining dully. The man wore a fine set of maroon robes, sitting in an extravagant throne, three other men wearing an assortment of masks standing around him. It was the Doga, and the Merchant Princes.

“Doga Vincento, my friend! _Larri!_ ” CT smiled, leaning down to kiss the Doga’s hand.

“CT, is that you?” he asked, slightly jovial. His age was obvious in his voice, yet it was so strong, so proud, as if he still did not realize his age.

“Yes, Vincento! And Luc is here, as well.” CT smiled. “Say ‘ _larri_ ’, Luc.” He whispered at Luc, expectingly.

“ _Larri_ , Luc.” Luc replied, the sarcasm dripping from their mouth.

The Doga giggled slightly, finding this hilarious. “Larri, Luc! I trust that Frivaci is treating you well?” the Doga asked, bending forwards slightly, as he touched around to feel his kneecaps, and then leaned.

“No. It is hot and it smells. The people are terrible and are liars. I dislike it.” Luc spoke, honestly. The Doga nodded.

“I see! Well, it is good you are honest about it.” The Doga said, approvingly, moving back to place his back on the chair. “Well, I won’t keep you waiting too long. You go and enjoy the party! And good luck, CT!” He made a shooing motion in general, and then leaned down into his chair. CT nodded, and then left along with Luc.

“And the point of that was?” Luc asked.

“Asking too many questions, my dear Luc.”

“And you’re not giving enough answers.”

“As it should be.”

Luc rolled their eyes.

“Now, onto talking with the Vizier.” CT said, moving along through the ballroom. He did an awful lot of walking. It was what he called ‘the Play’, the theatre, and the theatre players. He enjoyed using the analogy of politics and plays. He said being an actor in the Play involved an awful lot of walking.

Eventually, they reached the Vizier. The Vizier was a tall man, with a thin head, rectangular head and body. His dark skin and carefully trimmed eyebrows enunciated his blocky details, his beard matted into a rectangular block, a mask of a Yuranese caricature of a scorpion hiding most of his face. His bald head shined brightly. He wore red and black robes, with a lot of jewellery.

“Vizier Kosran!” CT smiled, embracing the Yuranese man as if an old friend, which he apparently was. The Vizier smiled back, patting him on the back.

“Prince Vescutto, an honour to meet you here today. How long has it been? One year, two years? Ah, never mind that, timekeeping is impossible with our separate calendars!” He smiled back, his voice harsh and deep.

“Same, my friend! How is the King doing?”

“Gravely ill, I’m afraid. The King has sent me out to find out his only child, Aisha, who is said to reside in Frivaci, in the land’s of Duke Barthollo, who has bought her mercenary for his schemes. Either that, or she is dead.”

“I see.”

“And you? How is Frivaci?”

“Murmurs rise of a rebellion, I’m afraid. Nyico is old, and his death will certainly leave a power vacuum. I am certain Duke Barthollo and Duchess Citra will fight for the throne once he finally dies, both being cousins of the Emperor.”

“So both of our countries are most likely on the verge of collapse, if nothing happens in the near future to stop it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“How quaint.”

Luc blinked as the two men spoke, with hints of remorse and sadness in their tones. However, it was mostly apathetic. It was odd. Luc did not like it.

“You are here for the jewel, I presume?” the Vizier asked.

“Yes,” CT responded.

“You can have it. I wish not to fight with a friend for a simple jewel. Besides, I will have to travel to Duke Barthollo’s lands anyway, and it won’t be easy with the most precious jewel in the world in my bag.”

“I thank you, my friend.”

“No, I thank you, for releasing me from this burden. I wish you good luck in your efforts, Prince Vescutto.”

“And you with yours, Vizier.”

Then, CT simply turned around, and strolled away. Luc followed, confused.

“So, that’s that?” Luc asked, honestly curious now.

“Yes.” CT smiled. “The Vizier is tired, and his search has been for a year now. Aisha is a more important task to him than stealing the jewel. Keep in mind, the others won’t give in so easily.”

“Right.”

CT walked into a discrete corridor of the mansion, making sure nobody was present with them, and closed the doors. He then turned to face Luc.

“You do know how to use that sword, correct?” CT eyed the greatsword around her belt.

Luc shrugged.

“Wonderful! I am sure that this will end up brilliantly.” CT dryly remarked.

“What are you planning?” Luc asked, not at all amused with where this prospect was going.

“Asking too many questions! Now, come along, my dear Luc, we need to find our dear Frivacine friend.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assassinations, politics, and food, oh my!

They stayed in the room for about a minute in silence after CT said they should go. They had stood right there, doing particularly nothing.

“Why are we doing this?” Luc asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was waiting for you to ask. You see, my dear Luc, they’re in the next room, however, I wanted to be fashionably late.” CT smiled, bracing himself for a slap. Luc sighed, resentfully. Why did they put up with this guy? A question they had asked themselves many times, but never found the answer.

CT strolled along towards the door, confidently, and Luc followed, not really in the mood now. The door swung open, and there was a bowl of wine, with one glass nearby. Additionally, there was two fanciful chairs facing a low hanging table, one man sitting in them, flanked on both sides by two guards.

The man was slightly fat, a dark skin with hair shaved on either side, his hair in mats. He wore a fanciful coat and shirt, richly dressed in gold and greens. The man gestured for CT to fill his own drink. CT smiled, doing so without hesitation. Luc noticed him slip a small vial of some liquid into the wine, however it was discrete, and as his back was turned, the man really could not see what CT was doing.

“So, Cariso the Merchant,” CT smiled, taking a seat and shifting himself, eyeing the guards on either side. They both nodded silently. Luc stood behind CT, with a blank face, simply there to look intimidating. They flashed their pointed teeth at this Cariso, making his eyes widen in surprise.

“So, Merchant Prince Vescutto,” he smiled, slightly uncertainly. He placed his drink on the table, as did CT, and the two drank each other’s cups.

Then, Cariso put the drink down, smiling. And just as he did that, one of the guards took out a dagger, and slit the man’s throat, allowing blood to slowly drip it’s way down. Cars started twitching and shaking, started coughing up copious amounts of blood. The man glanced at Luc, trying to say something, anything, but he only suddenly ceased moving. Luc did not know how to feel about this.

“I thank you for your services, men. Your pay will be granted shortly, once you arrive at my mansion. I think you best hurry up.” CT waved them off, and they walked off eagerly.

“What was that?” Luc asked, exasperated and confused.

“Well, he poisoned my cup with a very common but fatal snake venom. Luckily, I’ve been treated with the anti-venom, as one should.” CT smiled, standing up as he casually repositioned Cariso so he was sitting upright.

“And what you put in your drink?”

“Harmless water. I hadn’t expected him to be asking me to serve my own drink, insulting me like that! He was a host in this affair, so rude.” CT smiled again, inspecting the corpse, almost as if he was a puppeteer, and the man who had been alive just a few seconds ago was the puppet. It was not a very pleasant look.

“Luc, my dear, do you think it’d be more dramatic if I turn the chair away from the door so they’ll have to walk up with apprehension of what they’ll find, or no?”

“Just hurry up!” Luc groaned. “We’re going to get caught if you don’t do this faster.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, as he moved it to face the other way, slowly. Luc looked at him like he was an idiot, folding their arms and waiting for them to finish.

“Well that is settled.” CT smiled, rubbing his hands. “Let’s go, now.” CT said, leading them out of the room.

“So, who did you just kill?”

“Cariso, minor Frivacine merchant, nobody special. He hates me-well, hated me, because I screwed him over on a deal. Won’t be missed in the slightest.”

“It’s good to see you have such morality that you only kill people who won’t be missed.”

“Now, now, my dear Luc, I never said that!” CT laughed.

Luc paused and looked at CT. He looked as if there was nothing wrong, as if he hadn’t just dictated the death of an individual, just to get some jewel. Luc had seen CT do cruel things, sure, but not on the level like this. They felt like they would see a lot of things tonight which would make them question why they even stayed with CT.

“So who’s next?” Luc asks, trying to change the subject.

“Well, the four left, the Artisians. Two are brothers, we will deal with them next. Then, there is the more bigger problems. Gargochi Borgonos, rich merchant, guarded by Cirrenese Mercenaries, very loyal and determined guards. And there is Lady Porria Marilli, formerly a peasant lady who bedded and wedded a noble to gain up the ranks, and then he mysteriously died, as have all he husbands after. She’s a cunning actor, the most difficult one we’ll have to deal with tonight.”

“And they hate you, why?”

“I’m a bank owner, and a merchant, and a politician, my dear Luc.” CT smiled, the smile he made when something was obvious to him but not obvious to Luc. “It would be an understatement to say there are many reasons as to why they could hate me.”

Luc raised an eyebrow.

“I made the brother’s brother fall into so much debt that he had to become my servant. You’ve met him, he drove us here tonight. Borgonos and me used to be partners before we argued over the direction where the bank would go, thus we split, and I was once engaged to Lady Porria, however, I broke it off once I learnt of her previous husband’s grisly fates. There.”

“Much better.” Luc said as they walked into the ballroom. “I honestly can’t believe somebody would want to marry you.”

“As much a mystery to you as to me, my dear Luc.”

Just after saying that, Luc heard a bell ring, signifying to the guests that the starters would soon be served. CT beckoned Luc to follow as crowds shuffled along into another great hall.

The room was built so that it was split in three. Luc recalled what CT had told them of Frivacine feasting design. The first part was elevated, with one large oval table, for the most important guests, and the hosts themselves. The second part, the one in the middle, was floor level and included several circular tables for lesser nobles to sit down and dine in. And the third part, elevated downwards, featured two long rectangular tables for servants of the Lords and Ladies. Luc thought the whole separation thing was complete nonsense, of course, however, they never mentioned it to CT, probably because he’d pretend to be offended.

“Have a nice meal, my dear Luc.” CT said melodically as he walked off to take his seat on the elevated part of the room. Luc, as a ‘servant’, even though they weren’t payed a dime so they couldn’t actually be called that, would have to sit in the bottom part of the room.

Luc shuffled towards a free spot, nowhere specific, as six men, all of them most likely mercenaries as they wore armour but no banners, muttered to themselves, quietly. Luc did not care to join them, instead waiting for the servants to present to them. Luc didn’t have high expectations.

Eventually, servants with collars around their necks, bronzed with spikes - an ever-present reminder of servitude to their lord, slavery in all but name. They presented plates of smoking swordfish, served with a mango curry and peppers, and a small piece of naan bread to loosen the tongue. Luc took a bite of the fish, it was spicy, sure, but nothing which they couldn’t handle.

The men besides her spoke up their voices a bit as the food came, enough so that Luc could overhear them. They spoke in rough accents, clearly not natives to Artis nor Frivaci, probably somewhere in the Remnants, Luc would guess. They spoke in the Trader’s Tongue, devised by Southern Remnants merchants as a way of bridging the gap between civilizations. CT had made Luc learn it, as well as a multitude of other languages. ‘For your own good’, he had said.

What specifically caught Luc’s attention, however, was what they were talking about. Or more specifically, _whom_.

“I heard the Prince, Vescutto, is the son of some common-bred whore.”

“Do you think he’s a whore?” One of them asked, a bit to eagerly.

“I heard he sacrifices goats.”

“-Drinks blood-“

“-Slaughters babies-“

Luc went onto the table and kicked one of the men in the face.


	4. Chapter 4

CT was feeding the Ferguoci’s metaphorical grapes, stroking their egos with false compliments, and he was enjoying doing it.

That was, until Luc jumped on a table and punched some poor innocent man’s face, of course.

As they had done this, CT was drinking taking a sip of the red wine - said to have been made in the Southern Remnants, and he could taste it - and quickly spat it out the second Luc punched the man. All over his wonderful food, as well, which upset him most of all.

The Merchant Prince, after that, immediately stood up, smiled at his hosts, nodded, and said, in the most calm way possible, “I will be right back.” Then, he started running towards Luc, in an attempt to stop them from flinging the curry into the poor man’s face.

As CT hurried down the stairs into the servant’s area, he screamed at Luc to stop this right now. Luc did not listen, however, instead preferring to stand on the table, grabbing the man’s shirt by the neck, and beating the, for a lack of better terms, crap out of him.

“Luc, my dear! Please stop hitting the poor gentlemen before they get injured.” He waved at them, getting their attention, finally. Luc threw the man, who was now coughing up blood and eyes wide in shock, on the table and jumped off, walking next to CT.

CT rolled his eyes, then looked as…oh no. It was _him. His_ mercenaries. By all intents and purposes, he was, well, fucked rather painfully in the ass.

 

* * *

 

Luc spotted a large man, thick and fat, a large hooked nose, with brown hair dirtied and greased, almost broken due to it’s unwashed state. The man’s skin was covered in some brown dried paste, to give himself the perverse appearance of a native Frivacine, yet his appearance betrayed him, revealing his Artisian heritage.

“ _Larri_ , Prince Vescutto!” the man spoke in an amiable tone, walking alone with his jewerly tinkling with each step.

“ _Larri,_ Borgonos.” CT spoke more begrudgingly, and then the man embraced CT with a large hug, spinning him around. CT made a face at Luc, one of disgust, as he swirled by.

Once he was put down, CT brushed his clothes and looked at the fat man. “What do you want, Borgonos?” His voice was filled with spite, unlike his usual smiling self. Luc remained silent.

“Your servant attacks my servants, of course I am curious about what the occasion might be.” The man gives a hand gesture for his Cirrenese guards to come closer. The whole audience was staring at the two, the giant Borgonos towering over CT.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere a bit more private, no?” CT propositioned, standing on his toes to try and make himself look taller, but he still only reached to the man’s chin.

He scoffed. “What’s the worry? It was your servant, after all.” He grinned, leaning in closer, showing his rotten yellow teeth.

Luc remained silent, as they did often this evening, as the two shot back and forth, clashing a battle with tongues. The whole hall stared at the two as they talked, in silence, with the servants remaining silent.

“I graciously apologise, Borgonos, for my servants behaviour, but it is quite uncalled for that you call me out in public. My servant can be quick to temper, I’m afraid.” CT smiled, eyeing Luc.

“Then perhaps you should beat them, to shut them up.” Borgonos smirked.

“Perhaps both of you should shut up and stop making such a scene.” A new voice, coming from above.

The owner was an elegantly dressed woman, soft locks of brown hair and shining green eyes, a hooked nose, high cheekbones, dressed in fine cloth on gold silks, her walk slow and steady yet gracious. The woman had soft white skin, clearly an Artisian.

“ _Larri_ , Lady Porria.” Borgonos smiled, bowing slightly. “As lovely as ever.”

“As are you, Borgonos.” She spoke with a wrinkle of a smile, a sly one. Her head turned to CT. “Prince Vescutto.”

“Again, can we not make such a scene?” CT eyed the people, who had resumed eating, out of fear for their food getting cold. “I’d prefer to get back to my swordfish.”

“Or perhaps we can settle this in a private engagement? If we may have our leave, that is.” Lady Porria smiled at the hostess, who nodded, eagerly.

“Excellent thinking, Lady Porria.” Borgonos smiled, a shrew smile. Luc felt the man eye them, and Luc shuffled in unease. They snarled, which made the fat man’s eyes widen, yet he remained calm. “Perhaps a leash and a muzzle for your servant, as well, Prince Vescutto?”

“Luc, my dear. Follow me. We will leave, rather than bother the guests further. We shall eat privately.” CT smiled, bowing slightly for Borgonos and Porria, who smirked with satisfaction. Then, CT grabbed Luc’s wrist, and with a surprising amount of force dragged them off, out of the hall, who started to continue amiably discussing.

They walked in silence for a bit before they reached a private eating room. CT waved at a serving girl to fetch their meals, after the starter would be a soup. CT then gestured at a table, on a seating of two, and then sat down. He was silent throughout this, not speaking a word to Luc.

“I-“ Luc began to speak.

“Do not make excuses.” CT cut off, with a hand gesture for emphasis. “Your behaviour was undeserved, and placed us in a precarious position.” 

“But they-“

“I will not take excuses.”

“They said you were a son of a whore.”

CT paused. He reached for his mask, taking it off slowly, his lips parsed tightly together and he was frowning. He looked at the table, in his own thoughts. The servants came with soup, chicken and rice with corn bread, and then they left. Once the servants took their leave, CT spoke again.

“It is true, yes, my mother was a whore, a worker in a brothel. My father visited her frequently, in fact, he was her patron, and when I was born he was quite persuasive in taking her hand, the honourable fool.” He eyed Luc. “Don’t look so confused, a noble marrying a whore his not odd. It simply raises her status. They were such a lovely couple, always kissing. The crowds loved them, as did I.”

Luc did not speak. “They both died when I was twelve, of the sea sickness. It was quite sad. My mother sung a song when she died, a commoner’s song. I couldn’t remember the lines for the life of me, however.”

There was silence as the two drank their soup. Once they had finished, the serving maids arrived once more to clear their tables, and the CT looked at Luc, fascinated.

“You never told me how you came to my gardens, you know.” He smiled, eyeing the door hesitantly, to make sure they were not disturbed.

“I fell from the moon. I have told you this.” Luc spoke with a hint of anger in their voice, clearly not particularly wishing to talk about this.

“Yes, but how? It is quite puzzling, you know.”

Luc breathed in. “The colony was pretty poor, not much resources, lack of funds, yet we scraped. Lack of money meant we had to skip learning, working instead. We all followed blood magic, as it is, it was a good thing to turn to.” CT visibly paled at the mention of Blood Magic, however, he reached for a cup which wasn’t their, and it appeared he had realised he hadn’t any wine.

“I fell into the altar, once, and then I was there, on your shitty island, covered in blood, and you found me.” Luc spoke, without much emotion. They still remembered lying onto the grass, the ground, and the feeling like they would die, because the whole world was so different.

“And what did I say then, when I found you?” CT smirked.

“Not another one.” Luc rolled their eyes, CT had insisted he was playing a jape, however Luc somehow doubted it.

The main fish course had arrived, a stew made of shark, in coconut milk, tomatoes, onions, coriander, and palm oil, served alongside prawns, inside of a pan made of some black material. As well, they served both CT and Luc a red wine, which he said was of the Southern Remnants, with a smile, he dismissed the servants.

“Well, it was nice getting to know more about you, Luc, however now we must talk about other business. Primarily, Borgonos and Lady Porria.” CT’s smile turned to a frown as he started eating the stew.

“The two are clearly working together. I would be surprised if they aren’t conspiring on sharing the rewards from the Jewel, selling it to some common trader.” CT shook his head, dousing his food in a long sip of wine. Luc did not touch their wine.

“Should we kill them?”

“I was most certainly thinking they were planning on killing us. Why else invite us for a private engagement?” CT took a bite of a prawn, covered in the stew’s sauce.

“So how will we deal with them.”

“Oh, I imagine we will have to be clever. It would be a shame to kill them, they are such good players, however, such is such. If we don’t, we will certainly die tonight.”

Luc stopped eating. They had suddenly lost their appetite. CT continued to eat amiably, all the while thinking of plans to stop them. Luc listened, half-interested, however they were thinking of other matters, particularly about Borgonos’ face, and how punchable it was.

“As such, we will have to be quick with dealing with them. Their mercenaries will be hard to deal with, however, if we have the luck, Borgonos will fall like a feather.”

“You mean, slowly?”

“Yes, exactly.” CT smiled, and took a sip of wine. They ate the rest of the meals in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing is an art, as is fighting. Both occur in this chapter.

Luc and CT made there way back into the ballroom, each man and woman feeling as if they were staring into Luc’s soul. Their masks hid all but their eyes or their lips, glittering with small jewels and flashy colours, feathers in the hair and a few men having their eyebrows encrusted with rubies and sapphires. 

Luc noticed the men who they had assaulted in the corner, the man still looking rough from his wounds where Luc had possibly punched a few teeth out. They widened their eyes at Luc, one of them made a joke, and the rest started chuckling along. Luc moved their vision along, scanning the rest of the room.

Lady Porria and Borgonos were with each other, talking out of earshot, a man with a white butterfly mask and dark observing much as Luc did, a fat man in a lions mask which looked slightly to small for his face, a lady with a mask like a hawk, two men wearing snake masks and looking like weasels talking amongst themselves, who CT pointed out as the brothers who crossed him. “They tried to overthrow the Doge.” CT had explained, shaking his head, clearly trying to avoid them for now.

A man walked up to CT, wearing a clay mask, covering his whole face, pale white, the lips coloured blood red and the eyes circled with a olive green, a hooked nose on the mask. “Vescutto,” He whispered, his familiar voice clear with dissatisfaction, taking his back and pulling him into a corner. Luc followed, eyeing CT with a raised eyebrow.

“Terreno,” CT’s lips parsed, fidgeting on his gloves, tugging on the fingers, clearly anxious. 

“What was that with Lady Porria and Borgonos about, you idiot?” the man spoke. Luc realised it was Prince Terreno, one of CT’s fellow Merchant Princes.

“Blame Luc,” CT spoke, eyeing Luc slightly. “They made the whole situation.”

“And for what? Public shame?” Terreno grasped CT’s arm. “There are whispers. They say you will die tonight.” His words were barely a whisper, and full of dour.

“Whispers. That is all,” CT seemed clearly uncomfortable with his grasp, resting his back on the wall, a smile on his lips.

“Whispers backed up by sharpened swords. Borgonos did not bring his mercenaries here for no reason.”

“I wish them the best of luck. I am quite hard to kill, you know.”

“Be careful, Vescutto. You tread on a spider’s web,” Terreno let go of CT’s arm, and then left with a shake of his head.

“Luc, my dear, you remember that sword?” CT asked, eyeing the sword around Luc’s belt.

“Yes?”

“I hope you can use it.”

The two exited the corner in silence, neither speaking, as CT simply moved along towards the banquet, a long table laid out with bowls of wine and goblets made of ceramics, fruits and nuts. CT took a goblet of wine for himself, and gave one to Luc as well, telling them to drink. It did not seem like an option. “You will need it, by the time this night is done. I am sure.”

“Are you afraid?” Luc asked nonchalantly, as they forced the wine down their throat. They hated the stuff.

“Why, my dear Luc, what could I possibly have to be afraid of?” He smiled, looking Luc straight in the eyes, and took a sip.

“Is it Borgonos?” Luc did not need an answer. CT’s eyes widened at the mention, looked away for a few seconds and then looked back.

“No. Forget about Borgonos, Luc. We are at a party! And I do believe the dances are starting soon again.” He smiled, and then turned around and took another sip. Luc put their glass down, frowning.

“I am in armour.”

“Today is already a controversial night for me, why not make it more controversial,” He mused to himself, and Luc’s eyes widened with anger and realization, before grabbing him by the arm and twirling him around.

“I am _not_ dancing with you.”

“Shame. It would’ve been fun to see the reactions on their face,” CT laughed, putting his cup down as well before gliding along the ballroom, somehow managing the free himself of Luc’s grasp. 

The musicians started changing their song, into a faster pace, much more lively. “Ah, there it is. Luc, my dear, if you won’t participate then stand there and keep an eye on me.Make sure I don’t, say, disappear,” CT smiled, and then left. Luc stood there, watching with boredom. Of course CT had to make it that they’d watch the dancing if not participate.

The dancing, at least, was fascinating. Luc had expected slow movements, close grasps and little excitement, and instead it was something different. The men and women stood in separate lines, facing each other - CT standing with some woman with a flamingo mask and a bright pink gown - and then they took their partners hands and started circling each other, keeping their distance, until a drop in the beat played, and the movements became rather fast, and Luc stopped paying attention, instead looking out at the night sky.

The ballroom had no windows, but large gaping holes, allowing the night sky to be seen as well as the sounds of the jungle, only faint now with the music booming. The stars were bright in the sky, and the full moon was on them. Luc took a few moments to admire it’s beauty, yet with a tinge of bitterness, a reminder of home. Yet, Luc was certain this was not their moon, as the maps which CT had shown them resembled little what they had seen of the planet down below.

Then, they felt a hand take them by the back, and another on their mouth. Luc’s eyes widened, yet they were pulled back. Their heart started racing as they were pulled out of the ballroom, and further into the castle. They heard a sword being unsheathed, and a clattering as they saw their sword being left behind. Luc couldn’t react fast, as the next thing they knew, their arms were bound together, and they were thrown onto the floor.

The people who had kidnapped them, they were kidnapped, Luc felt, were familiar men. Cirrenese mercenaries, all of them, the ones they had fought before in the great hall. They all looked relatively pleased to have Luc their captive, and Luc scanned the room for anything to defend with. Next to them was a glass panel, with a large warhammer which they could use. However, they stood still, not giving the men an inch of emotion besides bitter coldness. Luc was going to enjoy beating the everliving crap out of every single one of them.

“Not so though now, eh?” One of them sneered, the one Luc had beaten in the face, his nose bandaged heavily. “Without your master backing you up?”

Luc did not give him the privilege of being talked back, only giving a cold hard stare.

“Slice their throat and be done with it.” One of the men said. Others agreed, yet more gave moans of disapproval.

“No, we have orders to capture them. Anything else, and it is bad enough. We keep them herefor the night.” The man spoke, and then took Luc’s head and threw it onto the ground, smashing it. Luc felt blood trickle over their forehead. 

_Bleeding_ , Luc thought to themselves.

They were kicked in the back, but they armour deflected it, giving the man a time to get his balance, and before Luc knew it, they were standing up, and pushing one of the men into a display case. They were in the armoury, Luc realised, as the man crashed into the display of the warhammer.

Luc had to move fast, and so they did, rushing past and moving their hands over the glass, cutting the surprisingly weak rope in half, before grabbing onto the warhammer. The thing was large, and made of some sort of metal, it did not matter, as long as Luc could beat the men up, it was alright. They turned, and just in time, for a man darted at them with a sword.

They raised the hilt of the warhammer, allowing a clang to be heard, and then they took it and swung it full force into the man’s rib. Luc could hear a crack, a groan, and the man was on the floor, cradling in pain. There were seven more men standing, and Luc positioned themselves for combat.

Two came at once, hoping to overpower them with numbers, and Luc felt strained as they fought the men. One was carrying a shield, made of wood, Luc realised, and they quickly shoved their hammer into the shield, crashing it and sending splinters around. One hit the other man in the eye, and he screamed in agony. Luc finished his suffering by raising their hammer and then hitting him in the head.

The helmet the man was wearing crashed into his skull, breaking it and allowing the blood in their skull to simply gush out. Luc took a second, horrified, and got distracted. The other man, the one whose shield was broken, hit the back of their head with the hilt of his sword, shaking Luc off balance enough for them to fall down once more, landing on their chin. 

_Bleeding_ , Luc realised again, as their vision started to fade, way too fast for comfort.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with Borgonos is interrupted, and Luc picks up a sword.

Borgonos smiled slightly, the fat man sliding a finger along Ceto’s head, grasping his chin and pointing it upwards. Ceto felt hatred, felt horror, felt terrifying dissatisfaction, all at once as he was sitting on his knees. To say the very least, dancing had not gone exactly as planned.

The lady had turned out to be a woman who Borgonos had bribed, she had told him to follow her, that she had information of Aisha Kora Dar’ammad, information he could give to his friend the Vizier, and Ceto, foolishly enough, had believed her. Now, he was trapped inside of the dark room, goddesses knows how Borgonos had gained it from the Fergoucis, they could be in league, in some twisted way, and Ceto felt as if he would die.

He shuddered as Borgonos opened his mouth, allowing his fingers to explore Ceto’s teeth, the fat fingers covered in that horrid mixture which men like Borgonos used to appear native and higher than they were, guiding around his teeth towards the inner set, with utter fascination. Ceto shuddered, before the man popped the finger out, rather roughly, and only then did Ceto consider to bite down on the finger.

“ _Vusse telline qastroses laraneze_ ,” Ceto whispered. _May you be pierced by a million swords_. He meant, of course, pierced as in fucked, yet Borgonos couldn’t tell the difference, and if so, he hid it well.

Borgonos slapped him, surprisingly with strength despite the almost affable way he did it, before grasping Ceto’s long hair, and giving it a sniff.

“You smell just like all those years ago. Do you remember those years, Ceto?”

“I should have had you killed all those years ago, is what you mean.”

“I much prefer this fat head to stay on this fat body, thank you very much.” He laughed, before slapping him again, on the other cheek. “A side note, no talking. It is rude.”

The man took more sniffs of Ceto’s hair, before shoving him aside and into the wall. “We brought your friend, that Luc, troubling girl. She killed one of my men, and another is dying. You should have her whipped.”

Ceto was about to tell the fat idiot that Luc was not a girl, and that they were them, yet remained silent, eyes only giving a deathly glare. He would make a comment, however, on the whipping, he decided. “Perhaps you should consider following your Emperor’s decrees.”

“Emperor Nyico is a fat fool,” Borgonos gave a wave of his hand, and Ceto could not help but think he was speaking of himself. “Besides, those silly laws shall be reversed by Duke Bartollho soon enough, you shall see.

Borgonos smacked the back of his head, for Ceto had talked, before the doors of the room had opened and Ceto’s eyes widened in horror as Luc was brought in, bleeding heavily from the head, their armour ripped off so they wore only the thin cloth underneath, yet it was clear they had been beaten quite a bit in the meanwhile. The Cirrenese, they showed no mercy, and Ceto could feel the hairs on his back raise in anger. Yet he did nothing, most likely because he was on threat of death and his hands were tied.

Luc was thrown next to Ceto, rather harshly and without much care, and Ceto could see they were bleeding rather heavily from the head. Ceto looked with some discomfort at this, before turning his eyes back to Borgonos. “Forget my previous statement, perhaps being stabbed more than a million times would be better for you.”

“Such attachment to a simple servant. It is quite unprecedented. Hit them.”

One of the Cirrenese hit Luc, in the back of their head, making their forehead crash into the wall and allow it to trickle with trails of their blood. Ceto felt his lips parse in worry, worried for Luc, and he did have to agree with Borgonos on one thing. He was quite attached to Luc, surprisingly so, and he would kick Borgonos in his shrivelled little balls and feed it to some goat.

Ceto made no comment, however. Ceto simply stared, in amixture of horror and quiet rage, at Borgonos as he smirked.

The fat man walked along the red sandstone floor of the room, thinking to himself as he scratched his dirty and broken goatee, barely a movement could be heard as he pounced around. Ceto remembered something similar, years ago, when he had still been working together with Borgonos, the rushing sensations, and feeling of fingers in his mouth. He forget them, the second they resurfaced, for he did not wish to remember them, never.

Ceto shuddered.

“Leave us,” Borgonos said to his servants, and they left with quite a bit of murmuring, probably to stand outside in case of trouble. Ceto remained silent, out of dignity, or perhaps it was fear. It was hard to tell.

Once the door slammed shut, Borgonos sneered once more, and then took Ceto by the throat, roughly, and without much grace, before lifting him up and pushing him against the wall. Ceto gurgled ungracefully, at the unexpected force, at the unexpected strength of Borgonos, and that he would even dare to do this.

Borgonos leaned in closer, so close that their lips almost met. Ceto smelled his breath, and it smelled of sweet wines and perfumes, yet the stench of his hair, never washed and broken, could still be smelled over the incense.

Ceto, naturally, spat in his face.

Borgonos let Ceto go, unceremoniously, allowing him to fall onto the floor, his spine hitting first, and he felt the pain, and he groaned slightly because of it. He eyed Borgonos, who was wiping the spit off of his face, before kicking Ceto firmly in the stomach. Ceto groaned again.

“That was not a smart move, I’m afraid, my sweetest Ceto.” He giggled as he snatched one of Ceto’s ears, and pulled him up, before shoving his mouth against Ceto’s lips, and Ceto felt disgusted.

So disgusted, he squirmed for help, but Luc was still unconscious on the floor next to him, and he was utterly alone. He felt his heart pang as Borgonos’ tongue entered his mouth, rather forced, and then traced over his teeth, and his tongue, and everywhere in between. Ceto shuddered in fear, and prayed for help.

Once Borgonos had stopped, he let Ceto go, dropping him once more on the floor. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it now?” He laughed, as if it was a joke, and Ceto could swear, if he did not have his hands tied behind his back, he would kill him. But that opportunity would present itself later, if he still lived, hopefully.

It only just now occurred to him he could have bitten Borgonos’ tongue. He cursed his slow thinking, and shuddered once more. He did not dare to look at Borgonos.

He felt Luc stirring next to him, and he whispered his prayers. He prayed for help, for death of Borgonos, for the jewel, for something. Borgonos watched him pray, amused by the futility of it. Ceto knew it was futile. He still prayed, nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

Luc woke up, for a start.

They felt something dripping from their forehead, blood, most like, they were _bleeding_. It was hard to believe. They heard whispers, CT, they recognised his voice, he was praying in Frivacine. Luc had only been taught a few of the words in the language, however they recognised enough of it to understand he was praying for help.

Luc moved slightly, away from the floor, onto their back, and they saw Borgonos, smiling. Luc was about to go up and punch his fat face, however Luc’s hands were again tied behind their back. They groaned, and Borgonos’ eyes moved towards them.

“Ah, so the servant is awake! And I was just about to leave. Oh, well.” He snorted, slightly pulling CT up by the collar and posing him against the wall. CT continued to pray, before Borgonos kissed him.   
Luc watched in horror as the fat man kissed CT, holding his throat in one hand and with the other he was forcefully opening his jaw, allowing Borgonos to move his lips and his tongue throughout CT’s mouth. Luc felt their mouth open in shock, not knowing what was happening, but they saw tears on CT’s eyes, and knew this wasn’t something they wanted. This disgusted Luc.

Borgonos stopped kissing CT for just a moment to slap him, leaving a red mark on his cheek where he had been slapped. CT made no comment, seemingly defeated. Luc started swearing at the man to stop.

“Stop it, you fuck. When I come out of this bondage I will kick your ass to death and back, I swear-” They shouted, but they were cut off by the sound of a door slamming open.

The man who Luc had punched in the nose, the one with a bandaged nose, had arrived. “Borgonos, there is a man here who claims to know you, he’s got some insect mask. What should we do?”

Borgonos’ face turned into a frown, and he shrugged. “I shall meet them, then. You stay here, and keep a watch on the hostages," he said, starting to leave. “And do not kill them just yet,” he added, with a smile.

They left, and a moment later, shouts could be heard. Luc did not pay attention to them. They tried to stand up, only to fail to do so, simply squirming instead. They scanned the room for any objects to beat the man with, yet there were none to be seen, the man had a sword, a sword. He had turned around in confusion, at the door, and Luc tried to stand once more, and managed.

CT’s eyes widened with excitement, and his prayers continued. The man was distracted long enough so that Luc could stand, and turn, and try to take the swords slowly out of it’s sheathe.

It made noise. Luc dropped it, once it had been extracted, and the mercenary man frowned and looked down, in surprise. “What are you doing?” He asked, angrily, as he kicked Luc in the stomach, away from the sword. _So close_ , Luc managed to think, as the man retrieved his sword. 

“Idiot,” the man snorted, taking his sword up and examining it. “You really think I was going to be that stupid?” He started laughing out loud.

A loud crash went against the door, and the man dropped the sword in surprise. Luc took this opportunity to slide along the floor, and they managed to grab the blade. He cursed, attempting to kick Luc in the stomach before they could cut themselves free.

But Luc was faster, and then they were free. CT cheered weakly, and Luc stood, and then prepared for combat, sword ready. The man before them looked uncertain, before retrieving his dagger from his belt. “Silly girl. You think you can get out of here with all my men outside?”

Luc shrugged, seething with rage, and then slashed at the man. He parried weakly with his dagger before it fell onto the floor, and then Luc twisted around and slashed at the man’s arm, leaving a deep gash in his shoulder. It seemed Luc had remembered their fighting lessons. He groaned in agony, before Luc once more thrusted forward, and managed to stab the man right in the nose, through his face.

The man slid down onto the sword, like he was a doll, right down onto until his face rested on the hilt. Luc dropped it in horror, before realising they had killed him.

“Good job, Luc, my dear, now please cut me free.” CT commented from down there, and Luc complied taking the dagger instead of the sword and cutting him free from his bondage. He rubbed his wrists, thanking his prayers and whoever decided to meet Borgonos.

The door crashed open, and one of the mercenaries was on the floor, an arrow in his eye.

“I must thank him for that as well, it seems.” CT said with a smile.


End file.
